The Dominator was a behemoth to behold in the upper atmosphere of Lexmar Prime, its gargantuan form resplendent with gargoyles and crenulated buttresses surrounding each massive gun. Bright flashes streaked from lance batteries, stabbing out into the swarm of smaller ships that plagued the giant Imperial cruiser. Plasma bursts wracked the skies as the rebel cutters and cruisers died in the hail of punishment the Dominator directed around itself. No tear was shed from these dissidents for while they died in space, they died upon the planet's surface. The Knights Vermillion Strike Fortress had received a distress signal that was months old as they passed the outskirts of the Tau Empire on their way home to the Armacian system. The chapter had been carving a path through the stars to reach their fortress upon the planet Armacia and to induct the 'fresh' recruits into the training grounds upon Athena, this distress signal placed a temporary hold upon that homeward journey.

The Imperial Governor had been slain, his staff ousted and his armies turned traitor. They slaughtered the population for some romantic notion of freedom from the Imperial yoke. This could not go unpunished, the Astartes would see to that.

The bolt round exploded after boring into the permacrete wall, sending shards of razor rock to shred into the fleeing guardsmen. The Astartes advanced in perfect unity, their giant armour shod feet crushing the enemy beneath with no remorse. The Space Marines had made planet fall an hour prior to this point, smashing into the complacent ranks of the rebel armies. The Red Death himself leading the charge, spearheading the assault straight towards the Governors palace. Brother Virgil kept rank with his brothers, pumping round after round into the routed guardsmen, watching men burst like over ripe fruit as the mass reactive shells detonated inside them. He was truly humbled by the instrument he carried, the righteousness of its mechanics. It spared no mercy for those who come under its gaze, cleansing them in pain and death. Virgil's suit flashed up a red warning rune and a nasal whine filled his ears, he brought his head down to search for the indicated threat and saw the imminent danger.

One of the rebel guards, his pale face splashed with his own blood was grinning up at the Space Marine with defiance upon his lips. The man's body had been shorn from his legs by a bolt round, an unlucky hit for the Astartes who had fired the shot. The guard clutched something to his chest, something which made Virgil's eyes widen and break rank, diving upon the brother closest to him and forcing him down into the mass of bodies and rubble.

'Down brothers! Pray to the earth!'

The Krak missile detonated almost a fraction of a second later, the Guardsman tearing out the internal wiring and overloading it, he was vaporised by the initial explosion but the Marines felt the force of the anti-armour round in such close proximity to it. Two brothers of five man squad were downed, the first having the razor tipped armour piercing shot flash through his breast plate and make a mess of his insides, the second suffered a critical overload in his power pack , the anti armour shot shredding the internals in his bulky power station, the thermal coils inside exploded outwards in a sphere of blinding white. All that was left of Brother Optis was the lower half of his torso and his legs, the remains crashing into the rubble beneath with a clang.

Virgil forced himself up from the Marine beneath him, checking the read outs upon his visor, he had sustained minimal damage across 70% of his armour and one critical area upon his lower back, his body had already began to clot the wound and pump pain suppressors into his system. Then beneath the super imposed read out he noticed the colour of the Marines armour he'd saved. His throat tightened and he threw his arm down in offering to the Astarte.

A taloned gauntlet snapped shut around his forearm and the Marine hauled himself up along Brother Virgil until he was towering above the Tactical Astarte.

Virgil dropped to one knee, his suits servo's protesting at the sudden movement, he placed his right hand upon the pommel of his combat blade and his left hand made a fist over his hearts.

'I thank you, young Virgil. Rise and continue upon this quest.'

Virgil rose unsteadily back onto his feet and nodded his head, struck silent by the figure before him. He un-slung his Godwynn bolter and rushed forward to rejoin the fight. A pair of red glass eyelets regarded the Astarte as he moved off through the carrior field before them, the Marines black and vermillion armour stained with smoke and blood, his chainmail tabard matted with gore. Chaplain Grakar turned a lip in disgust at the scene surrounding him, bringing one of his beautifully tooled greaves down to crush a traitors head beneath his boot. Two brothers had been claimed this day, this could not be forgiven. The black armoured giant clutched at a bound leather tome chained to his belt, with taloned fingers he wrenched it from his waist, the length of chain unravelling. He found the vellum page he'd marked with a velvet sash and with a thought logged his vox sign into every brother participating in this battle. His voice snarled out inside his helmet and along the vox lines, echoed by the scream of bolters and roar of chain blades.

++ Brothers! Harken to my voice! ++

He knelt beside the dead Marine, wiping gore from the artifice'd name plaque upon his breastplate.

++ Brother Optio and Brother Vernis shall forever be remembered. These mighty warriors have fallen to the enemies foul and wicked trickeries. This must, be, avenged! ++

The chaplain rose, taking a adamantine quill from his belt to dip into one of the fallen Brothers many wounds. He closed his eyes and whispered a prayer to the Almighty, then reverently penned the deads names within the tome.

++ A great sadness takes me as I see what has befallen His most beloved. Our blood has been spilt by the unworthy, My lord, if you are harken to my words, name a price for their vengeance. ++

A long static fizzed and crackled across the vox lines, gunfire, hammering blows from explosions and screams mashed into one cacophony of war. Then one word was spoken, the voice was like the dread lord himself had clawed through the warp to snarl at them.

++ Blood. ++

Grakar rose from his knee's, the word sending shivers of familiarity through his soul. The Chaplain slung the tome back to his belt and popped the clasps upon his helmet, pulling the skull motif helm from his face. His skin was grey, the veins showing indigo through his waxen complexion, a pair of crimson eyes took in the battlefield around him, the shattered buildings and broken bodies. He lifted both of his taloned gauntlets skyward, framing the giant shadow of the Dominator through the cloud banks. He opened his mouth, two ivory fangs glinting in the fires of war.

++ You heard your master, unleash your fury, stain the ground with their life and harvest their souls for the Emperor. Feed my brethren, feed! ++

Then death descended upon Lexmar Prime. A storm of blood and frenzy, the towering Astartes gorging themselves upon the traitors of mankind, slipping slowly into oblivion as they rent and gored the turncoat population of this doomed planet.